


Plead

by AutisticWriter



Series: One-Word Whump Prompts [12]
Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Angst, Burns, Crying, Dark, Ficlet, Fire, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Minor Character Death, Pre-Canon, Swearing, Vomiting, Whump, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27401440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: Biggs and fire.
Series: One-Word Whump Prompts [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871002
Kudos: 1





	Plead

This can’t be happening.

“Please, God, no…” a voice whispers, pleads, but that trembling, pitiful voice cannot be his.

There’s smoke everywhere, clouding his vision, filling his lungs, coating his tongue with bitter ash. Through the thick, blinding smoke, he staggers forwards, legs heavy as lead, and the voice—his voice—continues to plead and beg and shake, barely audible over the crackle of barely-dying flames. Wetness cuts through the ash on his face, but he can’t possibly be crying.

“No, oh fucking shit, no…” He sniffs and coughs as hot smoke burns his nose, and his legs buckle, sending him thudding to his knees on the floor of the destroyed barn. He wants to stop crying, to man up, but he can’t, not here, not now. Because, through all the smoke, Biggs sees them. “Fuck…”

Once his men, his _friends_ , they now lie there, skin burned and charred, hands fixed like stone around their guns, and what was once their faces contorted into horrifying grimaces of agony and terror. A splutter passes his lips, and his gun falls from his hands, clattering to the ground. Pain claws at his knees through the legs of his pants, the wood and ash from the fire burning him, but he ignores it. He can barely feel it.

Biggs tries to control his breathing, but inhaling the smoke just sets off a harsh coughing fit. And as he stares at the corpses of his friends, the horrifying sight combines with the heavy coughs, setting off his gag reflex, and he vomits all over his legs.

Coughing and spitting and gasping, he just kneels there, and sobs. Because no amount of pleading can bring them back.


End file.
